


Somedays

by 222Ravens



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Pining, Relationship Advice, poe dameron needs to talk about his feelings more, references to Han/Leia - Freeform, somewhere nebulously post-TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:45:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/222Ravens/pseuds/222Ravens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a moment of silence, as Leia looks down at the ring on her finger, and Poe looks to the past, to the future, to the present.</p><p>The silence breaks. </p><p>“Listen. Poe. I’m not going to make any excuses for saying this. Soften it with ‘it’s not my place’, because, frankly? It kind of is.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somedays

It’s another briefing, another half-baked last-ditch hail mother of a plan to keep the galaxy spinning on the right axis.

All of it should feel so familiar, because it is.

He’s prepared to go on missions before, dangerous ones, one where the stakes were this high, or higher. 

Starkiller Base, for one, and he still remembers that, the push of solar wind on his fighter as he pulled clear, not sure who else had made it off.

This one, though, has a strange air of finality to it, a tone to the air like maybe, just _maybe._ They’ll have a reprieve, a chance for things to settle into a better shape. For that _after_  that his parents had always wanted, and never quite found.

Poe’s a soldier to the bone, but he’s always kept tucked away the idea that there was something to fight _for_. 

Something worth all this, even if it doesn’t get to see it. 

He looks around the room, at all of the faces in it, trying not to wonder how many he’ll see again. Looks at everyone. 

Rey, not here, but her role in things weightier than any of them, enough she has a presence, anyway.

Ackbar, making a suggestion, tentacles wobbling cautiously.

Kalonia, her eyes readying themselves for casualties. 

Statura, arms folded, and Poe’s played cards against him, he knows that tell.

Connix, studying the incoming transmissions, her hair so deliberately neat it feels like balancing for something. 

Snap, worrying at his lip. 

Pava, trying to hide her nervousness with a casual air. 

Skywalker, eyes old & grave, but  _sharp_. 

Other faces, other names, and...

Then Finn glances up at him, out of the corner of his eye, and flashes him a grin, bright & clear & full of confidence. Reaches over to squeeze his hand.

It seizes at him, that smile. Right in his chest, right at that part of him where he keeps the ‘afters’ along with the ‘maybes’, and the ‘ifs’. Or the other words he has, so carefully tamped down. Where they want to take flight, capture the sensation of falling in reverse. He can’t say anything though, about those other words. Not yet, not now. It’s both too big to say, and too fragile, with the weight of everything ahead. There isn’t time for that, he’s sure of it.   
  
“May the Force be with you.” The General says to the assembled crowd, steady. They disperse, the room full of nervous energy, movement & sound. Finn’s hand slipping out of his.

Poe tries not to let the absence show, tries to smile comfortingly, right back, when Finn notices he isn’t following, just yet. Nod that he’ll follow in a minute, really.

He’s just stuck in this moment, and he hasn’t left it yet. Isn’t ready for what’s about to come to catch up with him. Still looking at the plans. Burning them into his mind, while letting it wander to other things. Other skies, and the things that root in the soil under them.

“Your thoughts, Dameron?”

With a start, he realizes the room has entirely emptied of everyone but himself, and the General.

“On the mission?” 

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I heard those.”

He’s never been able to hide anything from her. That isn’t discomforting, by any means. There’s a reliability to it. 

Leia Organa is, and always has been, a fixed point, even when everything else falls around her.

“Then. Yavin IV. The tree my parents planted.”  
  
She nods. “I remember.”

There’s a moment of silence, as Leia looks down at the ring on her finger, and Poe looks to the past, to the future, to the present.

The silence breaks. “Listen. _Poe_. I’m not going to make any excuses for saying this. Soften it with ‘it’s not my place’, because, frankly? It kind of is.” 

“General?” 

“ _Leia._ ” Firmly.

Perhaps he can do that. _“Leia.”_  He repeats, with more surety than the last word he’d spoken.

“You’ve got something to say to someone. Something you’ve been holding off, and it’s not to me. And don’t argue, it’s plain to anyone with eyes, and a few species without.””

He'd moved to open his mouth, after the second sentence. Again, though, she’s beaten him to the thought, the action, the reaction.

Perhaps it’s best, that way, because...

“ _Say it._  What needs saying. Don’t hold out for someday. Don’t hold out so long that the only way either of you remember how to say it is with a goodbye. Even if there isn’t a someday.Even if neither of you make it that far, or you do, and you lose each other anyway, chasing the next one. It’s still worth it. Understood?”

Her eyes are full of memories, full of pain and love, old joys and old sorrows. 

As for Poe?

He pauses, balanced on the brink of a step he should have made months ago, and makes his choice.

“Understood. I... Thank you.”

She nods back at him, and smiles in a way that feels like a blessing granted, then flaps an impatient hand. “Good. Now, _go_.”  
  
He runs, and catches up to the feeling of flying.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dubiousculturalartifact on tumblr, @DubiousCA on twitter, and I also absolutely adore comments, if you feel like that.


End file.
